


A Conversation Turned Sour

by Snoodle Whumpus (TheNerdyPixel)



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Wind can communicate with spirits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNerdyPixel/pseuds/Snoodle%20Whumpus
Summary: Wind noticed a figure following Time around, seemingly whispering to him promises of power. While sharing stories, Wind sees Time's vulnerability regarding a certain mask which carries the same markings as the Old Man. Wind will do everything in his power to make sure Time's secret demon doesn't get the satisfaction of hurting him anymore, but Wind doesn't want to fight if he can help it. So, he "borrows" the mask and tries to converse with it.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 101





	A Conversation Turned Sour

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty short, I know. I still don't know what I'm doing, but I had this thought stuck in my head for the longest time. If anything seems wrong or off, please don't hesitate to tell me!

Ever since Time and Wind met, Wind saw the looming figure that radiated unimaginable strength and power that made the sailor tremble in terror. His mind only procured feelings of danger. The figure was not always visibly present, but Wind always felt the air stiffen with temptations around the eldest hero. At first, Wind thought the being was following the Old Man. Through a more thorough observation of the two’s interactions, Wind realized the figure never strayed too far from Time’’s belongings. It was on a calm night when stories were being shared amongst the group that Time brought out the mask. The moment Wind laid his eyes on it, he felt the strength increase tenfold. If he strained he could hear the voice, calling out to anyone that would listen to borrow its strength if only for a moment.   
Despite his age, Wind was no fool. He knew the unwavering power the mask in Time’s hands spoke only of empty promises to fulfill desires of which the sailor had none. Yet, as Time held the mask and ran his finger across the aged paint, there was a look of longing upon his face. The resemblance between the markings on the mask and the tattoos that adorned the Old Man’s face told Wind all he needed. The mask needed to be disposed of before the power was released. All Wind needed was a plan. Luckily, it did not take long to come up with one. Hastily put together and full of flaws, but it was a plan nonetheless. One that would be put to action once the heroes were out for the night.

Enacting phase one of the plan was easy, Wind volunteered for the second watch of the night once the stories were over. The sleeping heroes would be hardest to awaken and the moon would be at its peak, giving Wind enough light to go through the rest of the plan. Thanks to his many sleepless nights at sea, he managed to feign sleep until a tired Four gently shook him for his shift. Once at his post with Four softly snoring, Wind pressed on. Thankfully, traveling with pirates taught him a thing or two about sneaking and thieving, as he took the cursed mask from Time’s possession and walked away from the makeshift campsite without making a sound. With the mask in his hands, Wind could feel the incessant whispering grow louder and louder until he was almost certain that the others would hear it. He quickened his pace, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.   
The sneaking sailor only stopped once he was sure that he was far enough away so his voice wouldn’t stir the sleeping members. He knelt down, staring into the cold, unfeeling eyes of the mask. Even invisible, the force the spirit within the mask displayed made Wind incredibly uneasy. He steeled himself, unwilling to let his nerves be shown to the spirit.  
“Who are you?” Wind asked like a king questioning a petty thief. The spirit answered willingly, almost uncaring of the authoritative tone directed towards it.   
“Names lose their meaning when tossed around, merely becoming myths and legends. I lost my true name centuries ago, but those who know of my power call me a handful of names. The most prevalent being Fierce Deity, if you must know,” As the spirit spoke, Wind fought the urge to drop the mask in favor of covering his ears, the voice reverberating through his bones.   
“Show yourself,” Wind demanded. The spirit chuckled much like a father would at his son’s childish antics.   
“You speak as if you have power over me, young child. I assure you, if I didn’t find you so fascinating, you would be dead where you kneel.” Wind was not wavered by this threat.  
“I just want to talk. And talking would be much easier on both of us if you spoke through a body and not a mask.” There was a pause. Wind patiently waited for the mask’s spirit to make a decision. Soon enough, Wind saw darkness seep from the mask like a squid’s ink in the ocean, settling on the grass like a heavy fog as the figure he saw many times before rose from the gaseous substance. The deity’s stark white features contrasted the fog that lapped hungrily at the threatening figure. Wind craned his neck to view the god up close, looking into the same hollow eyes he saw seconds ago in the mask.   
“If you wish to talk, then talk,” the being said, the voice now slightly easier on Wind’s mortal ears, “I have seen what you can do, little hero. Yet, you have seen nothing of my strength. Answer me, why do you converse with me like one of your own when you know not of the devastation I can bring?” Wind gathered his courage and kept his gaze level.  
“I want to know why you’re hurting my friend,” when the figure maintained its eyeless stare, he continued. “I want to know why you’re hurting him when you both can rest and be at peace.” 

The spirit looked away, turning his gaze skyward, “You speak as if you can help, as if peace for me is an option,” he looked back to the boy on his knees, “I suppose that is the wrong term of phrase to use. There will be no peace for me when there is so much in these worlds that can be solved with my power. Trapped as a mask, I can do nothing but be an onlooker. But, together, we can stop the evils.”  
“Is that why you stay with him?” Wind questioned. The Fierce Deity let out a barking laugh.  
“Him? Oh no. He isn’t needed for this. It was merely easier for me to communicate with him since he borrowed my power once before. Most anyone can place this mask on their face and have a taste of my power. But you? You could be better than he could ever be. You could see me, you can see the others, too. You, my boy. You could help me rid the worlds we visit of evil-doings. With your otherworldly gift and my strength, together, we will be unstoppable. The evils do not stand a chance.”  
Wind was surprised to say the least. After seeing the deity with Time, he believed that the spirit was nothing but evil. Now, it was talking about destroying evil? He sat there, slack jawed and unblinking as the being outstretched his arm, beckoning Wind to take his hand. 

“WIND!” A shout shook the boy out of his stupor, but he did not look away from the god-being. He didn’t need to look to know he was discovered by Time who, by the sound of it, was running down the grassy hill to the sailor with the other heroes close behind, awakened by his shout. With no time to think, Wind did the only thing he thought to do and grabbed the offered hand. Before the smirk could make its way across the trapped god’s lips, their clasped hands dazzled with golden light. Time and his posse slowed, looking on with weapons drawn as the god was revealed to all mortal eyes, the swirling darkness being slowly overtaken by Wind’s conjured light. With one hand still on the mask and the other firmly grasped with the demon god’s, Wind stood with a wisp of his namesake twirling around the pair gracefully.   
“I appreciate the offer. But I know your nature, so I have to say no,” Wind stated plainly, as if he was bargaining a locket with the god instead of his life, “I didn’t want it to come to this. I really just wanted to talk you into leaving him alone.” With that, Wind dropped the mask, reached into his quiver, and retrieved an arrow. Twisting the arrow between his fingers, Wind allowed his life force to light up the arrow in the same glistening light. The deity twisted and contorted in rage and pain, shouting obscenities in a long dead language. Satisfied, he glanced at the group of heroes.   
“Hey Wild?” he said, voice casual but hinted with strain, “Take this and shoot him for me, would ya?” Wind tossed the arrow in his direction. Wild hastily gathered the arrow from the ground and readied his bow. Wind turned his attention to the raging god, green eyes tinted gold as he fought to keep the spirit of the mask in this realm. Wild let the blessed arrow cut through the air towards his target. With true aim, the arrow pierced into the being’s ribcage, a web of shining cracks splitting its corporeal form. The demon god screamed. It was a sound worse than a thousand redeads, yet Wind only tightened his grip. Only when the god disappeared into fine sparkling dust and the only sound Wind heard was the ringing of his own ears did he drop his arm to his side. He was barely aware of his concerned companions approaching him, focus turned to the white mask on the ground. Carefully picking it up, Wind turned to face his friends turned family. Time was quick to Wind’s side, kneeling to the younger’s height and placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders. His lips moved, but Wind could not hear anything but the ringing.   
“It’s okay, he’s gone now,” Wind said, or attempted to say as his words came out slightly mushed together and slurred, drowsiness slowly consuming his being. Time took the mask out of his shaking hands and pressed the sailor into a hug. Wind complied, head resting against the elder’s shoulder. Only then, did he allow his body to collapse, finally giving in to the exhaustion.

…

Time didn’t know what else to do but hug the small hero, the golden dust that was once his daily burden sprinkled Wind’s cheeks, joining the light speckling of the boy’s freckles making it appear as if the stars were weaved into his skin. Tears of joy sprung forth as the weight was lifted. However, Time didn’t know what the little pirate underwent to accomplish this goal. He was reminded of the toll it must have taken to restrain the god when the sailor’s breaths deepened, all of his weight leaned into Time as he slept.   
“What the hell was that?” Legend rudely interrupted the atmosphere of peace Time felt. Though, he couldn’t say he blamed the snarky hero. Although Time did not know what exactly happened, he knew he would have to explain the being they saw their youngest hold back. With that in mind, he gathered the youngest hero in his arms and stood, motioning back to camp. The others wanted to argue, but one look at the slumbering sailor and everyone followed their retreating leader-figure. 

Once Wind was situated in his bedroll to rest, Time faced his team.   
“We will talk about this once he wakes up. Until then, try to get some rest. I’ll watch over camp until daylight.” Leaving no room for argument, the Old Man sat, eye trained on nothing in the distance as everyone else went back to their bedrolls, waiting it out until morning as none were able to find sleep once more. In the meantime, Time held onto the mask that resembled him, periodically gazing into the eyes of the mask wondering if the spirit of the warrior inside has finally been freed like Wind said. That night, for the first time since donning the power of the fierce deity, Time heard silence as he held the wooden mask doused in the same golden dust that graced Wind’s cheeks. Time ran a finger across the markings like he had done earlier that night, pushing the dust aside to reveal the paint’s true colors. He inspected his finger, surprised to find that not a speck of the fine dust was on it. With a sigh, Time looked to Wind, who managed to already flip himself onto his stomach and entangle himself in his blanket.  
“You have some explaining to do, kid,” the Old Man whispered as a smile wormed its way onto his face.


End file.
